


The One With The Crossover

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Intertextual Invasion Forces, Multi, Retconning As Weapon, Scheduling Wars, Swearing, The Forth (sic) Wall, Torchwood - Freeform, oldfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 04:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13046259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: “It’s a crossover,” said Jack. “Everyone stay calm and try not to get our continuities confused.”The Doctor and Martha form an intertextual invasion force after the Forth (sic) Wall is breached.





	The One With The Crossover

In Torchwood’s secret underground ~~volcano lair~~ base, there was mild panic. Less panic than when they had a Cyberperson (as Toshiko insisted they refer to it), but more panic than when the pizza place was closed for refurbishment. 

“That was Torchwood 2 on the phone,” said Jack, arranging himself sexily against a bit of scenery. “The Forth Wall’s been breached.”

“Shit,” said Gwen. “Wait, I’m new here and have no idea what that means.”

“The Forth Wall,” exposited Jack, “is what keeps reality defined. It was built by the Romans, or aliens. One of those, at any rate. It runs parallel to the Forth, hence the name. It's probably built on a ley line. Something mystical and blatantly unscientific, we know that much.”

“Reality’s fucked,” said Owen. 

“They’ve started restoration work, but in the meantime anything could happen. Literally anything.”

Gwen thought about this. “Is it like in Ghostbusters with the big man made out of marshmallows?”

“Yes,” said Jack, “nothing like that at all. We’ll just have to hope nothing terrible happens.”

 

Three hours later, the secret underground ~~volcano lair~~ base was invaded by two people who looked a bit annoyed. 

“It’s a crossover,” said Jack. “Everyone stay calm and try not to get our continuities confused.” 

“Right,” said the Doctor, who was an old hand at this sort of thing. “Martha and I have formed an intertextual invasion force. We’ve got some things we’d like to discuss with you. No one try anything clever or I’ll be forced to retcon you. Don’t think I wouldn’t.”

“Believe me,” said Jack, “there will be no cleverness from us.” Only rarely had truer words been spoken.

“We want the post-watershed slot,” said the Doctor, getting straight to business. 

“You want the what?”

“Post-watershed slot. 10pm. You can have 7 o’clock on a Saturday. Fair’s fair, after all.”

“That’s ours!” protested Gwen. “We fought for that slot.”

“Bollocks you did,” said the Doctor. He smiled at Martha. “See? We can swear here.”

“Oh, thank fuck for that,” said Martha. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like at 7 o’clock?” asked the Doctor. “It’s rubbish. Worst part is I know what you lot are up to at 10. What do you do with that slot, eh? Nothing. You just kiss each other and watch aliens shagging people to death. We’d make much better use of it. I’d like to able to swear at Daleks, for one thing. Mass-murdering fuckers, that’s what they are. ” 

“We need to swear as well!” Jack wasn’t giving up 10pm, not without a fight or at least mild indignation. 

“Not as much as we do. Besides, I’m the last of my species. I should be out there repopulating. Rose would have put out, I know she would have. Stuck at 7pm and the most I got was a bit of hand-on-hand action. Sarah Jane Smith? She was gagging for it! And look at Martha. I should be getting some of that of an evening, but I’m not.” 

“But it’s _our_ slot,” whined Owen, sticking to the basic facts. 

The Doctor looked at him. “You were unloved as a child, and have a rare and incurable terminal disease. How awful for you.”

Owen started to cry as he remembered his sad, sad childhood and impending death.

“You bastard! You retconned Owen! He was the best of us!”

The Doctor glared at Jack. “Don’t fucking try anything, bitch. I have a lot of experience with the art of retcon. At least 95% of my current backstory was invented after the fact.”

“We can compromise,” said Gwen, metaphorically glowing with inner humanity. “We’ll swap for one episode.”

“Right. You lot can get the one about the puppy trapped down a well, me and Martha’ll take the one where aliens make everyone have sex.”

“But we need that episode!” cried Jack. 

Toshiko coughed. “Actually, all this shagging and swearing’s put me behind on my reports.”

“I haven’t seen Eastenders in weeks,” added Ianto. “It’d be nice to have a quiet night in on my own.”

“That’s that sorted then,” said the Doctor. “Martha, get your knickers off, we’ve only got 45 minutes and I don’t want to waste any time.”

 

There was no proper ending, because the author couldn’t be bothered and frankly this was a weak joke to start with. The moral of the story is not to make puns. Ever.


End file.
